


The Ride from the Airport

by Fyre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Councilwoman Hawley's journey from the airport did not go quite as Pierce anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ride from the Airport

**Author's Note:**

> So, fun fact, in the comics Pamela Hawley was Nick Fury's girlfriend at one point. I liked this idea.

Pamela checked her hair and make-up in the mirror.

The plane was finally coming into land in Washington DC, after more transfers than were absolutely necessary. It wasn't as if Washington was a small backwater, and yet, she had ping-ponged from London to Paris, then through New York. 

For all that SHIELD were masters of communication, they were bloody awful at coordinating transport arrangements for people who weren't under cover. 

She sighed and added a fresh coat of lipstick, then returned to her seat for landing. 

At least, she thought, they had given her the benefit of business class. 

It was a relatively smooth landing, and customs gave her no trouble. Pierce had advised her that a car would be waiting to pick her up, and he was hardly a subtle man. She spotted the large black beast of a vehicle almost at once. She tutted under her breath. Sometimes, Pierce could be so very American.

A young blonde woman was standing beside the car, holding a digital sign that read 'Councilwoman Hawley'.

"Good morning." Pamela smiled as she approached. "I believe you're waiting for me?"

The girl beamed at her. There was something familiar about her face, but given the number of SHIELD agents she had met in her time, that was hardly a surprise. "We'll get you straight to the Triskelion, Councilwoman," she said, opening the door. 

Inside, the car was just as big as it was outside. They could easily have fit half a dozen people in without any trouble.

Pamela settled back against the leather upholstery and glanced ahead at the driver as the car pulled out into traffic. He had a suit and peaked cap, all very formal, with a pair of sunglasses. He turned his head just enough to look up into the rearview mirror, and Pamela's heart felt like it had stopped.

"You son of a bitch," she whispered.

"Ma'am?"

She leaned forwards in the seat. "Don't you 'ma'am' me, Nicholas," she snapped. Good god, her hands were shaking. "They said you were dead! They said you were buried!"

"They?"

Pamela stared at the familiar outline of his ear. She knew his features too well, even now, after so many years. "Pierce." Her nails were sinking into the back of the passenger seat. "What have you done?"

He lifted one hand to remove his sunglasses and looked at her in the rearview mirror. "Not me, Pam."

A chill ran through her. Pierce believed he was dead. Nicholas wouldn't have done something so dramatic if he didn't believe it was truly necessary. And how convenient that Pierce got his little project brought back online because Nicholas was dead. What a wonderful coincidence. 

"Pierce," she said again, softly. 

Nicholas took a turn to head downtown. "Pierce," he agreed.

Pamela sank back in the seat. "You were trying to stop Project Insight. Why?"

"Only a hunch, then," Nicholas replied. "Now, I know. Trust me, we don't want those things in the air."

"Trust you? The man who faked his own death?"

"It was necessary."

She believed it. If someone wanted him dead that badly, they wouldn't have stopped. She sighed. "I assume your remarkable resurrection isn't simply to play chauffeur and chat about the good old days?"

He glanced back at her. "You know me, Pam. You know I don't ask for help unless I'm desperate."

She pressed her fingertips to her lips. Nicholas Fury had asked her for help all of one time in the forty years they had known one another. The first time was when she still practised her triage skills, and he was bleeding out from an impressively large gunshot wound to the thigh.

"As bad as Sulaymaniyah?"

"Worse."

That told her everything.

"What do you need me to do?"

She saw the way his cheek creased with a tight smile. "I don't think you've met Agent Romanoff," he said, jerking his head back towards her fellow passenger.

Pamela looked around at the woman, who pulled off a blonde wig. 

"Councilwoman."

"Romanoff," Pamela murmured. She looked back at Nicholas. "Explain."

"A substitution," Nicholas replied. "We need someone on the inside. Romanoff is the most capable agent I have ."

"And you don't think Pierce might notice?" She paused, then laughed dryly. "Ah. I forgot. You have clever little toys, don't you?" She looked at Romanoff, who was watching her with guarded interest. "I suppose we have time for a brief masterclass."

By the time they reached the safehouse that Nicholas had arranged for her, she was sitting next to her double in the back seat of the car. It was a very unsettling sensation. They had traded clothing, and she watched as Romanoff pinned the suit in to fit her better.

"Will I do?" Romanoff asked, straightening the jacket. 

"Is that what I sound like?"

Nicholas snorted. "Yeah, and yeah," he said. "Pam, we got you a hotel room to hole up in until this is all over, whichever way the chips fall." 

Romanoff held out a keycard. "You're in room one hundred and nine. If anyone asks, you're registered under the name Emma Steed."

Pamela took the card and glanced at Nicholas. "Kind of you to remember."

He chuckled. "You have no idea how much you talked about that show," he said. "Coming up on the left. You ready?"

Pamela picked up the blonde wig, pulling it on. "Will I see you, when all this is over?" she asked.

"We need to see how the chips fall," he replied. "You gonna turn a ghost away from your front door if he shows up?"

She slid towards the door. "I suppose you'll find out," she said. The car drew up at the kerb. "Do try not to get yourself killed again."

She saw the flash of his grin in the mirror. "Not planning on it."

She slipped out of the car and closed the door behind her. The keycard was cutting into her fingers as she watched them drive off. What a bloody awful way to find out he was alive: only to see him off to what might be his death.

"You stupid brilliant man," she sighed softly, then turned and headed into the hotel.


End file.
